Stars Align
by dudeurfugly
Summary: Joanna McCoy has wanted the stars since she was a child, since her grandpa hoisted her onto his shoulders and taught her to appreciate the constellations. They've always been a way to find home, to know her father was there, to realize the universe would bring them together. The stars might look different over San Francisco, but here Jo's finding a new kind of home.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for the original characters. **

**A/N: This started off as something I just tossed around for fun and then it spiraled out of control, as most ideas usually do. The idea of an AOS series featuring an all-female lead "cast" with Jo McCoy as its main character and a subsequent study of the McCoy family background was exciting to me, enough that it wouldn't leave me alone. So, I decided to write it as a sort of warm-up while I work on my original fiction. This is my first Star Trek fic; please forgive any mistakes! A very special thank you to my friend Olivia, who's listened to my endless headcanons and patiently beta reads. Not sure if all the chapters will be this lengthy; I have a rough outline of the plot, but mostly I'm just having fun with it. Hope you enjoy reading!**

* * *

**Toccoa, Georgia – June, 2254 **

There was something about the Georgia night air that had always helped Leonard McCoy clear his head. He had made a lot of important decisions from the very spot where he now sat, just to the right of his old bedroom window, on the roof above the porch. It was where he'd decided to follow the McCoy family profession and study medicine. It was where he'd made up his mind to ask Jocelyn to marry him. And, it was where he and Jocelyn finally compromised on what to name their baby girl. Leonard had retreated up here with the company of his thoughts more than usual lately, seeking the counsel of the wind through the trees and the crickets in the grass below. He tried to rub the exhaustion and stress from his face and ignored the scent of hospital antiseptic still clinging to his hands.

Being here was bittersweet—normally, they stayed during the holidays or weekend visits when he could spare them. Those occasions were full of warmth and the aroma of his mother's cooking and his father's laughter as he pulled Joanna into his lap. The walls held memories of his childhood and the family he'd built with Joanna and Jocelyn. Now, the house was uncharacteristically silent and his mother cooked for them even when they weren't hungry to keep her thoughts from straying too far. In the past week, Leonard navigated through his days, weary and eyes bloodshot, as if he had been working an endless shift. He realized it was just the way a burden felt on a twenty-seven year old man's soul.

"A little suffering's good for the soul," his father always said.

Leonard had heard the old adage plenty of times in his life. He never believed it—not then, not now. He wondered at the irony and if his father still trusted his own words. The universe was often cruel.

"Daddy?"

He lifted up his head, ears keenly attuned to his daughter's voice. Joanna was at the window, dressed in her pajamas, staring at him with her big hazel eyes. He hoped she hadn't been there very long.

"Jo," he said at last. "I thought you were already asleep."

Leonard noticed the slight tremble in her chin and the fleeting look that passed over her face. It was the expression she wore every time she appeared at the side of his and Jocelyn's bed before burrowing in between them for the night.

"What is it, darlin'?"

"I had a bad dream," she said.

This hadn't been Joanna's first nightmare since they had moved temporarily into his parents' house. Though she was handling the situation well, Leonard didn't expect a seven year old to understand everything. He fielded questions she had about her grandfather carefully. However her mind processed the information, it was wreaking some havoc in her subconscious. Leonard almost regretted not keeping her in the dark, but he was of the opinion that when someone asked an honest question, they deserved an honest answer. Or, as much honesty as he could offer a child.

"Wanna sit out here awhile?" he asked. "Sky's clear."

At this, she nodded eagerly. Leonard stood up and crouched in front of the window, holding out his hand. Joanna, wide-eyed, peered over his shoulder to the incredible distance between the roof and the land below, the grass tinged silver by the moon. She had a white-knuckle grip on the windowsill and looked at him as if he'd become one of the monsters beneath her bed that she used to dream about.

"It's high," Joanna answered.

"Yeah." Leonard suppressed a laugh and instead gave her a reassuring smile. He knew it was high from experience—he'd taken a clumsy fall from it when he was thirteen and broke a few ribs. The concussion didn't feel too great, either.

"I've got you," he said, again with an offer of his hand. "I wouldn't let you fall."

Joanna took his hand, climbing over the windowsill. Leonard inched his way back to the spot he'd been occupying, both hands on Joanna to keep her steady. She crawled into his lap, her head against his chest, her dark hair windswept. She had a fistful of his shirt, which was unnecessary, but he couldn't help thinking that things hadn't changed much in seven years.

When she was much smaller, Joanna slept on his chest, a tiny fist curled around his shirt. She'd been lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his breath and heartbeat and a steady hand on her back. Leonard had been told repeatedly by his elder coworkers—whose children were off to college—to appreciate these moments while they lasted. He couldn't force himself to picture Joanna at college, leaving him and Jocelyn with an empty house.

"You all right, JoJo?"

"Mmhmm." Her attention had already been diverted to the sky as his thoughts wandered.

"What d'you see?" Leonard asked. This was her favorite game. In Atlanta, the light pollution didn't give her much. Out here where the next house was half a mile down the road, the night sky treated her to a masterpiece of the cosmos.

Joanna looked as though she was seeing the stars for the first time in her life. Leonard tried to memorize the genuine childlike wonder on her face. She'd never been up to the roof for stargazing. Mostly, it was something she'd done with her grandfather, but she dragged him outside on plenty of occasions to point out the seasonal constellations she already committed to memory from a stellar cartography program Jocelyn downloaded to their computer. Now, Leonard found himself appreciating what he hadn't before through her eyes.

"North Star," Joanna said. She pointed it out. Narrowing her gaze, she added, "Big Dipper…and the little one."

Leonard followed her index finger and traced them like he was connecting the dots. "Got it. What's that one?"

Joanna peered up at the W-shape he drew. "Cassiopeia!"

He enjoyed hearing her pronounce a word that had more letters than she had years.

She tugged on his sleeve. "And there's the dragon. His name is Draco," Joanna told him. She traced the outline of a serpentine head and a wide, winding tail. "Grandpa says when we're asleep he scares all the monsters away."

He wasn't quite sure whether or not Joanna believed this anymore. But she probably kept the sentiment close.

Joanna went quiet, shifting in his lap to pull something from her pocket. Leonard saw it catch the dim light and knew what it was. The card's edges were bent and there was a small rip in the side, but it was more or less intact. She'd picked it up in the city a few months ago and carried it around with her almost 24/7. It was a holographic image card; when she moved it to certain angles, it appeared as though the starship on the front was flying through space.

_Explore New Worlds! Enlist in Starfleet!_

She held the card up to the star-glittered sky and shifted it back and forth. "Daddy," she drawled.

Leonard pressed a kiss into her hair. "Yeah, Jo?"

"When I'm older, I wanna go to space in a starship just like that. And go all over to different planets and see the stars _every day_ when I look out the windows."

He laughed. He wanted to tell her that space was dangerous, it scared the hell out of him, and he didn't trust those oversized tin cans to carry his baby girl through it unharmed. He didn't want to imagine her so very far away from him, grown up, going on adventures where he couldn't keep her safe. Leonard never considered Starfleet—it was something he hadn't felt the inclination to do. But here was Joanna, waxing poetic about journeys across the universe.

"Do you think I can go space exploring one day?" she asked. She was looking right at him this time, the corner of her mouth upturned in a smirk that was all too familiar.

"You can do whatever you want, darlin'," he replied. "Anything. The sky's not the limit for you."

If Joanna wanted the stars, she could get them.

"You'd send me a postcard, right?"

Joanna giggled. "Of course, Daddy."

"Len." Jocelyn poked her head out the window, dark blonde hair falling to one side. Her tone was quiet. "Len, the hospital called. Your father, he's askin' for you."

The way she held his gaze with hers made his stomach drop. There had been no small amount of strain in their relationship since Leonard graduated medical school, and their temporary move to Toccoa had increased it exponentially. Their days consisted of arguments where Joanna couldn't hear them, and most nights were silent, separated by walls.

Jocelyn regarded Joanna in his lap. "Jo, baby, it's way past your bedtime. Come on inside."

With a huff, Joanna shoved the Starfleet card back into her pocket. Leonard and Jocelyn helped her through the window, Leonard climbing in after her. Joanna leaned into her mother's side and tried too hard to suppress a yawn.

"But Mama I'm not tired," she protested.

Leonard smirked, gathering her up gently into his arms. He held Joanna against his hip and her head instantly drooped onto his shoulder, one small arm wrapped around the back of his neck.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You look plenty tired to me. Let's get you to bed before you fall asleep standin' up."

Joanna's eyes had fluttered closed. Jocelyn placed a hand on Leonard's arm. "Want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine."

"_Len_."

"I'll be fine, Jocelyn," he repeated. "My mother's already there. I don't want to drag Jo to the hospital in the middle of the night."

Jocelyn conceded and stood on tiptoe to kiss Joanna's temple and brush her hair back before Leonard left.

He went down the hall to a guest bedroom that had been Joanna's since she was born. A night light threw detailed images of planets onto the walls and ceiling. There were glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the desk by the window, where one of his father's ancient telescopes sat. Next to it, a half-finished starship model was left untouched, a project Joanna had been working on with her grandfather before he was admitted to the hospital. Leonard stepped over a few stray toys and a shoe to place Joanna softly into her bed. Lifting a knitted quilt over her, he sat at the edge of her mattress a moment, guarding her while she slept.

"No more nightmares," he whispered. "Dream of the stars, Joanna."

**San Francisco, California – Late August, 2266 **

Turbulence in the shuttle jostled Joanna awake, knocking her shoulder against the metal interior. She sat up and stretched as much as the seatbelt would allow, appreciative the headache she'd dozed off with had disappeared sometime during the flight from Atlanta. Midday golden sunlight filled the shuttle's cabin warmly, causing her to squint to peer out the window. Another shuttle full of new recruits and several aircars sped past; the buildings around them shined brilliant and new.

It had been years since the _USS Vengeance_ careened into the city and annihilated skyscrapers and a good portion of the Academy's campus. The videos of twisted metal and billowing smoke had been on every news feed for weeks, and before that, the attack on Starfleet's Command Headquarters dominated their reports. Joanna remembered the sight of the _USS Vengeance_ smoldering and torn apart, the interviews from horrified civilians, the memorials to those who had been lost. She'd spent hours straight scanning the computer for updates until her mother snapped at her. If she could help it, she didn't like to think too much on those weeks afterward. It was reassuring to see that the city was back on its feet, all its physical scars healed.

She'd been to San Francisco before—a couple of occasions sprung to mind, all of them short, not all of them pleasant—but the sight of the Golden Gate Bridge made her stomach flutter nonetheless. She remembered, suddenly, the shuttle rides from Atlanta to Toccoa when she was a kid, sandwiched in between her parents. Her father kept a firm grip on the edge of his seat, pale faced, counting the minutes until they landed.

She used to pat his arm and tell him what she always did: "Think happy thoughts, Daddy. Happy thoughts make you fly."

That felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was.

As they approached the hangar, Joanna sat back in her seat and studied the mix of cadet reds and civilian clothes in the shuttle. The hum of excited conversation picked up quickly once everyone shook off the weariness of travel. A computerized female voice alerted them of their arrival and gave a reminder to remain seated.

A red-haired boy sitting across from her sighed, unclasping his seatbelt. Joanna couldn't figure out if it was from apprehension or contentment. He looked like he'd rather be elsewhere. She, on the other hand, could barely contain herself from jumping out of the shuttle.

"And so it begins," he said.

She offered him a smile at least, being that her default was good old fashioned Southern hospitality, even if she was beginning to feel the stiffness in her neck from sleeping at an odd angle. The shuttle had made its landing in the cavernous hangar, so Joanna stood up and worked the tension from her neck while some of her fellow cadets disembarked.

"You know what the dropout rate is?" he asked, while he reached into an overhead compartment. Again, she wasn't sure if he was inquiring to what she knew, or segueing into an explanation. She chose the former.

"Afraid not," she said. "Not exactly something worth thinkin' about the minute you step off the shuttle, though."

"So you're not worried about dropping out? At all?"

"Oh, I didn't say that," Joanna answered. She wondered where on Earth this was going. "I just don't want to count myself out before I get started. Seems a little…counterproductive. Why? Should I be worried?"

He looked caught. "No. _No_, I didn't mean—" he interrupted himself, sheepish. "Sorry. I probably sound like an ass."

"I think you stopped yourself in plenty of time."

"I admire your confidence is what I was trying to say."

Joanna smirked. "It's more optimism than confidence."

She would have been lying if she said Starfleet wasn't one of the best things she had going for her right now.

Joanna opened an overhead storage unit, tugging out the backpack she'd brought along. The zipper seams were nearly bursting from her shoddy packing job. A nearly prehistoric Army duffle bag followed suit. She heaved the backpack onto her shoulders and joined the nameless boy as they maneuvered out of the shuttle into the hangar. Merging with the pedestrian traffic, voices in all languages echoing around them, they followed the crowd toward the exit.

"Well, best of luck to you," he said.

"You, too," Joanna replied. She watched him catch up with a friend, disappearing into a sea of red.

Joanna had almost missed the shuttle out of Atlanta, so she hadn't been issued her uniform. For now, she was content in her civilian clothes, which still smelled of home. There was Georgian dirt caked into her boots, and it was nice to carry a piece of it along in case she got homesick sometime over coming months.

A fourth-year cadet shouted instructions to report to the Student Center for uniforms and other essentials. Joanna continued to get lost in the flow of traffic across campus to the central building. She paused on the front steps, allowing herself a moment to look out at the bay and the bridge, sunlight glinting off the water. The flag of the United Federation of Planets wavered in the breeze overhead. She could have cried with joy.

It felt like it had taken forever to get to this point.

Joanna was pretty sure it wouldn't sink in that she was _here, actually here in _Starfleet_, not as a visitor but a _cadet-in-training until she graduated. And maybe not even then.

There was a chirping sound coming from her pocket. Joanna moved out of the way and plopped down on the steps with her luggage beside her. She fished out her communicator and flicked it open.

"Dad?"

"Hey, darlin'," he replied. "Your flight arrive safe?"

"Perfectly fine. You should give those things more credit, you know. Where are you?"

She shielded her eyes from the sun, peering across the lawn to see if her father was in sight. Though really, she wouldn't have put it past her uncle Jim to sneak up from behind, tap on her shoulder 'til she was confused, and sit down wearing a triumphant grin.

"You're not gonna believe this, but I'm already up in spacedock. I waited as long as I could, but we're headin' out early. Humanitarian aid mission someplace. Your uncle says he apologizes."

"Not his fault. We just happen to have the worst timing in the universe."

"I'm so sorry, JoJo."

"It's okay. The universe needs you, too." No matter how many punches the entire universe threw at them, they'd always fight back. It was a mantra they'd shared since she was young. "We'll keep in touch like usual. I'll get you on vid comm when I'm settled. Tell the crew to have a safe trip."

"I will. I—Jim, dammit, I'm—"

Rustling sounds and some unintelligible swearing cut off whatever her father was trying to say. Joanna shook her head and buried her face in her palm.

"Bones, calm down. Two minutes. _Two minutes_! I just wanna talk to my niece." Jim Kirk's voice floated over the comm. "Cadet McCoy!"

"Hey, Uncle Jim."

He cleared his throat in such an exaggerated manner, Joanna thought he was going to hurt himself. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"_Captain_ Uncle Jim."

"Since you've bestowed upon me the coveted title of 'cool uncle', I figured it was my job to give you some first week advice."

Joanna didn't want to bother reminding him that Scotty was still very much willing to fight him for that title.

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard her father's long-suffering groan in the background.

"Okay, so, Hell Week sucks. The instructors are all upperclassman assholes who've been waiting three years to take out their unwarranted hate on all the little plebes. You're gonna want to punch them in the face. Don't."

"You're tellin' me this from experience, I take it?"

"_Hypothetically_ speaking," Jim said. "Anyway, even if you feel like you want to drop out, you keep yourself going. It sucks, but everything is _so worth it_, Jo."

"Thanks, Captain."

Joanna heard the sound of her father's comm being passed off again. "Jo? Listen, we have to head out. Good luck, sweetpea, I'm proud of you. You keep sendin' your letters, and make sure you write your grandmother. I love you. We'll talk soon."

"Love you, too, Dad."

* * *

There was not nearly enough space in the turbolift for everyone who had crammed themselves in. Joanna would have been worried about it being dangerously over its capacity if she weren't so intent on face-planting into her bed once she entered her room.

She'd waited in four different lines for two hours after her call with her father, her luggage weighed down from the addition of her Academy supplies. She'd finally received her regulation cadet uniform, a uniform for physical training, boots that she was sure were a half-size too big, her standard-issue PADD with stylus, and, lastly, her dorm assignment. It took another half hour to get from the Student Center to her residence hall but that had been entirely her fault for getting distracted—sensory overload was an understatement. The Academy's sprawling, manicured campus was a miniature city unto itself. An immediate nap somewhere other than a cramped shuttle seat seemed preferable.

Someone's bag was close to knocking her in the chest, and she'd dodged an elbow from a cadet who looked like he was inches shy of not being able to fit into the lift in the first place. By the time she'd reached her floor, Joanna was flushed. She yanked off her leather jacket and walked along the corridor, eyes roving to each room number. Her backpack and bag now gave the impression that they weighed a ton, which she desperately hoped wasn't an awful precursor to tomorrow morning's physical training.

Joanna dropped her luggage onto the floor, her jacket pooling into a heap on top of it. She tried to recall the four-digit passcode for the door. It'd been rattling around in her head since she'd left the Student Center.

There was a loud groan to her left, followed by a mild string of expletives that included a muffled, "Ugh, _goddamn it!_"

Since Joanna considered herself especially attuned to profuse swearing, she couldn't help but grin a little. Until, of course, she realized the groan had been one of pain. A few doors down, a female cadet stood against the wall of the corridor with her head inclined toward the ceiling. Rivulets of crimson dribbled between her dark fingers and down the front of her t-shirt. Joanna made her way over, the mental search for her passcode gone instantly.

"What happened?"

"Ah, I caught an elbow to the face," she said, her voice muted and nasal. "Some really tall dude."

"I've seen 'im. Here, have a seat." Joanna guided the cadet to a sitting position and knelt in front of her. "Keep your head forward, otherwise you'll be swallowin' your own blood."

Joanna shed her plaid button-up in favor of the underlying t-shirt and moved the female cadet's hands away from her nose. She grabbed Joanna's wrist gently.

"Wait—I don't wanna ruin your shirt."

"It's just a shirt," Joanna replied with a half-shrug. "I'm not particularly attached."

The female cadet managed a smile. Joanna held the shirt up to her nose, pinching the bridge between her index finger and thumb. She leaned forward slightly and sighed.

"Well, my first day's off to a wonderful start," she said. "I'm Perri, by the way. Alonso."

"Joanna McCoy."

"What an embarrassing first impression. _Ugh_. It's a good thing I didn't change into my uniform. I'm sorry. I got blood all over you, this is so gross. I'm gonna be having cringe-worthy flashbacks for at least a month."

"No shame in askin' for help," Joanna assured. "And don't worry yourself over it, it's not the first time someone's bled on me. You all right? Some people get sick at the sight of it."

"I'm okay. Hurts like a bitch, but I'll live. I take it you're a med student?"

"…That obvious?" Joanna grinned.

"Hey, I'm grateful. I would've been bleeding all over Starfleet's shiny floors. You think it's broken? I would kinda love an excuse to get out of PT tomorrow morning."

Joanna lifted her shirt from Perri's face. Her nose was swollen, brown skin tinged red around her nostrils, but it wasn't awkwardly leaning to one side or the other. She gingerly checked for bumps or indentations.

"Can you breathe through your nose?"

Perri took a successful breath. "Yep."

"You're in once piece, then," Joanna said. "Bleeding's mostly stopped. I doubt they'd let you out of PT that easily, anyway." She gave Perri back the shirt and she applied pressure to her nostrils and the bridge of her nose for a few minutes longer. "This your dorm?"

"Yeah. Looks like we're neighbors. Did you meet your roommate yet? Am I, like, being completely obnoxious by monopolizing your time? I feel like a jerk."

"No, not at all. This is the longest conversation I've had since I got here. And I have no idea who my roommate is."

"Pray to whatever deity you believe in that you don't have one like mine," Perri groaned. "I've seen her all of four minutes and in those four minutes she expelled so much anger I thought the room was gonna spontaneously combust."

"She didn't talk to you?"

"Nope. I _think_ her name's Morgan. I tried to read the label on her suitcase without getting too close. Fingers crossed neither of us get paired with her for whatever joyous activities we'll be doing tomorrow."

Joanna cringed. She lifted her soiled shirt from Perri's nose, thankful the bleeding had ceased.

"Am I good to go, Doc?"

"All clear," Joanna said, "but I'm not a doctor. I'm in nursing."

"Close enough for me."

"D'you wanna come over to my dorm? You can get cleaned up and avoid your roommate if you want."

"Are you sure?" Perri picked herself up off the floor, Joanna's hand on her arm. Joanna gave her the used shirt so she could wipe off her hands.

"Yeah, c'mon." She went over to the door, the passcode surfacing from the depths of her frazzled mind.

"I'll be your buffer against Roommate Rage. You know, in case the worst should happen."

The two of them shuffled into the room once Joanna punched in the right code with a finger that hadn't been exposed to Perri's mishap. They left Jo's luggage in the hall until they could wash up.

The room was more spacious than Joanna had been anticipating—two beds, two dressers on opposite ends, plenty of desk space and light, shelves built into the walls, and a holoscreen. There was a transparent screened computer on the desk with a full comm unit. She guessed the door at the other end led to a bathroom. The place was sleek and ultra-modern, updated even since her father had attended the Academy.

"No signs of sentient life yet," Perri said. "You're safe."

Joanna went to the bathroom to wash her hands thoroughly, leaving Perri to do the same while she hauled in her bags. She heard the door open, Perri's footfalls behind her.

Joanna whistled. "This is…"

"Yeah. _Yeah_. I felt bad about messing up the sheets earlier. Then I remembered we don't get room service and this is a school, not a luxury hotel. But damn, I am _not _complaining."

Joanna claimed one of the beds, leaving her bags at the end of it, too tired to even consider unpacking. She settled on top of the crisp white and red blankets.

"I think there's more people in this building than back home."

It may have been an exaggeration, but Joanna had been overwhelmed at the amount of cadets to each floor. So many people living side-by-side, separated by walls. The world moved a lot faster here.

"Small town girl? I was wonderin' about that accent." Perri took on an overstated drawl for the last bit.

"Georgia."

"I know exactly nothing about Georgia." Perri sat down in the chair by the desk. She snapped her fingers, eyes widening. "Oh, wait. _Peaches_! Peaches are from Georgia. That's it. That's all I got."

Joanna laughed. She leaned back against the pillows, arms propped behind her head. She should have cared about her dirty boots on the new linens, but she didn't. The mattress was a considerable level up from the shuttle seat.

"Where are you from?" Joanna asked.

"All over the place," Perri replied. "A bit of a nomad, if you will."

She didn't want to pry, as Perri had become more preoccupied with scooping up her curly black hair into a ponytail than making eye contact.

"Sounds more exciting than peaches."

Whatever Perri was going to say next was interrupted by the whir of the door as it slid open. The newcomer, a wiry young woman, crossed the threshold dressed in uniform. She paused once she realized the room was occupied, her face growing pink. She had the longest white-blonde hair Joanna had seen on anyone, cascading in gentle waves down to her hips. Some of it had been intricately braided.

"Hello," she offered, pronouncing the word as though she were still testing it out. "Am I not in the correct room?"

"Nah, you're fine," Perri said. "I'm just crashing here for a bit."

"Oh! Good. I got so lost…" Her smile lit up her entire face. "You would be my roommate, then?"

Joanna slid off the bed and approached her roommate. "Joanna McCoy," she replied. "D'you need help with your bags, or…?"

"No, no. This is all I have." She swung a cloth knapsack from her shoulders, a fur-lined blanket rolled up and attached to the top of it with cloth strings. From what Jo could tell, both were handmade. "Ah, thank you, Joanna. I'm Rune."

"Nice to meet you," Jo answered. "This is Perri, she lives down the hall."

Perri waved and got up from the chair, arms crossed in front of her chest. "My roommate's not playing nice."

"I am sorry to hear that," Rune said, like she wasn't quite sure what else to offer.

Joanna noted a unique lilt to her voice, an accent she couldn't place if she tried. Pleasing to the ear, it was gentle and melodic—softly maneuvering around vowels unlike her own drawling cadence.

"Looks like you lucked out," Perri said, smirking. "I don't think Rune has an ounce of hostility on her."

Rune giggled. "Make no mistake," she stated, "I _am_ a hunter. My mother often says I do not appear as deadly as I can be."

"Always the pretty ones," Perri said, amusement flickering over her face.

Rune's eyes were angular in shape, her irises cat-like, the color of a silvery moon. A woman with considerable predatory skill, indeed.

"A hunter? Where're you from, Rune?" Joanna asked. "And here, you can take that bed, unless you'd want the one under the window?"

"This will do fine." She dropped the knapsack onto it, beads and metallic charms clinking together from its drawstrings. "I'm from Aurora, a newer planet to the Federation. I believe I am the first to pursue Starfleet. A great honor."

"Nothing like a little pressure," Perri commented.

"I've gotta admit, I haven't heard of Aurora," Joanna said. "But your people must be very proud of you."

Rune nodded. "My parents…they are proud, but their worry over me is tiresome."

"Kind of a universal parent instinct, the worryin'," Joanna replied. "Especially traveling so far away from home."

"I suppose this must be true." Rune said. "Do not feel sorry for being ignorant of my culture. I, myself, don't know a lot about yours, with the exception of your language."

"Your Standard's a hell of a lot better than mine. You should hear me when I'm tired, it's a mess."

"Where are you from, Joanna? I've read that Terrans have a wide number of dialects."

"We've got ourselves a Southern Belle," Perri said, taking on a ridiculous accent again. She grinned quite triumphantly. Joanna tried to look annoyed, but it wasn't working.

"I'm from Toccoa. It's a small town in Georgia, in the southern part of the country."

"Ah, then, we are not much different. There are only twenty families in my village."

Perri whistled low, poking Joanna in the arm. "I'm jealous. You got the cool roommate from another planet. I'm stuck with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Rune's wolf-like metallic eyes flashed in excited recognition. "You have read _Harry Potter_?"

"I'm like 99% sure _Harry Potter_ is required reading," Perri answered. "I've still got the entire series on my PADD. I knew someone who had _the originals_. _In real hardcover_. This is awesome—now I know they read JK Rowling on distant planets!"

"It's what I started reading when I learned Standard. We did not get many Terran books, but a Starfleet officer read them from her personal device when I was a child. She left it in my possession."

Perri appeared as though she would implode from sheer happiness. She looked pointedly at Joanna. "I'm stealing your roommate."

"Nice try," Joanna said. "I'm starvin', so if y'all don't mind, I'm going to see what's edible around here. You're welcome to tag along."

"Thank you for the offer, Joanna. I might sleep early, since I've had a long journey."

"Perri?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll talk later, Rune."

"I'll be quiet comin' back," Joanna assured. She fixed the laces on one of her boots before she and Perri went out the door.

Rune watched them leave fondly, discussing which mess hall to 'investigate' first.

* * *

At 0530 sharp the following morning, Joanna stood in a grassy quad framed by a running track, jet-lagged beyond belief. She'd crawled into bed at a reasonable hour, but spent half the night wide awake, the exhaustion from before replaced by a second wave of energy. She should have been used to the time difference, but right now her eyelids felt heavy and she wanted to curl up on the grass. She listened to roll call while the fog drifted over the bay and caught her name in time to answer to it.

Perri had been one of the last in their squad to file in for roll call, making it by the skin of her teeth as she settled into a row in the back. Their PT instructor, Reynolds, a brawny third-year whose face was contorted in a perpetual angry scowl, regarded the latecomers with disgust. Joanna figured it wasn't personal, he probably hated all fifty of the cadets in his squad staring at him like zombies. There was a hint of something else in his eyes that could only be delight at their impending doom.

"Let's get something straight," Reynolds shouted, taking on that abrasive tone every PT instructor seemed to have. "If your schedule says 0530, _you are to be in this spot at 0530_, not thirty seconds or a minute later. Anyone who decides they're going to be late for PT doesn't deserve to be here. Understood?"

There were some grumblings in the affirmative, which did nothing to please their power-abusive overlord.

"I can't hear you. Yes, _what_?"

The chorus of, "Yes, sir!" he had been looking for followed.

"Thank you," Reynolds said, the phrase laced in sarcasm. "Maybe in a week's time you firsties'll actually learn some goddamn discipline. This isn't some high school gym class, all right? You are in _Starfleet_, so start acting like it. As your superior, you _will _treat me with respect. It's my job to break you. I don't expect every one of you to last the week."

"Fabulous," the girl beside Joanna muttered. The corner of Jo's mouth quirked upward.

"You're now Squad 16," he yelled. "Regardless of last name or planet of origin, you'll be treated as a unit. If you are not performing in a way that benefits Squad 16, you might find yourself on the next transport home. Teamwork's important, plebes, so I suggest you start buddying up with the people standing around you."

As if in unison, Joanna saw the fifty of them trade discreet looks like they had just come to the realization that they were trapped in this hellhole together, not standing in the midst of a barren desert by themselves with Instructor Reynolds screaming in their face. Joanna hoped she could pull through this somehow. She hadn't passed her exams and flown across the country just to bow out the first week.

"You can thank everyone who was late this morning for the extra half mile you'll be running." Reynolds broke into a jog toward the pathway that went around the perimeter. "Let's go, on the track! Hustle up!"

Joanna didn't count herself a strong runner, but she wasn't unaccustomed to it, either. The land around the McCoy family farmhouse had left her skin bronzed and her legs sturdy enough. She found a pace she was comfortable with after a couple laps around the track. Their regulation PT clothes—a shirt with the Academy insignia and a pair of shorts, crimson like their uniforms—were loose, made of a fabric that was easy to breath in. Joanna had made a point of getting a new pair of running shoes beforehand; they were a gift from her grandmother, who'd insisted on paying for them.

Though the back of their shirts were blank, Jo couldn't help but feel like everyone in the squad had a target slapped on. Not only was Reynolds hurling abuse in all directions from where he ran alongside, but apparently it had become a tradition for third and fourth year cadets to gather around the track to join him in his Firsties Hate Parade. (Her Uncle Jim's words, not hers.) They were camped out in groups, hands curled around cups of coffee, snacking on breakfast foods, probably placing bets. Joanna found a few rare glimpses of sympathy among them, but their encouragement was drowned out by jeers and chants. She tried to tune it out. Maybe if they were still there by day five, she'd be able to channel it into motivation. Though, it was pretty hard not to get pissed off at shouts of, "Move your fat ass, plebe!", "Go home Firsties!", and Jo's personal favorite taunt, "Warp speed ahead!"

She felt bad for the stragglers bringing up the rear. Six laps in, Reynolds stayed back there and she could hear his booming voice from her spot somewhere in the middle of the pack. The guy who'd smacked Perri in the face yesterday had paused in his run to throw up, leaving him on the receiving end of Reynolds' tirade. Perri caught up to Joanna sometime during lap eight, perspiration soaking through her t-shirt.

"You think if my lungs burst, I can get out of PT?" Perri asked.

"…Think you'd get outta more than PT," Joanna panted. "You see Rune anywhere?"

"Nah. Maybe she's in a different squad. I don't know why—oh, shit."

"What?"

"That's her. Over there. Blonde hair up in a bun."

"Who?"

"She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Perri said. "She was up before I dragged myself out of bed this morning. At, like, 3am. Who _does_ that? Did she even sleep?"

Joanna shrugged. "She could be avoidin' you as much as you're doin' it to her."

"I can't figure out why she hates me in the first place. I mean, I walk in, and it's like I ruined her entire existence by breathing the same air."

"Maybe it's not personal," Joanna suggested. "Maybe it's just how she is."

"You're sure we can't swap?"

Joanna shook her head. "No. No way."

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named picked up her pace, pushing herself quickly to the front of the squad. She moved with such minimal effort that Joanna found herself envying her. She maintained her lead, earning her high praise from Reynolds, who'd left the slower part of the squad to their own devices.

"That's how it's done," he bellowed. "We've got ourselves a leader, Squad 16!"

"Showoff," Perri griped. "Textbook overachiever. Bet you five credits she's some crazy third generation Starfleet royalty. Her father's probably an admiral or something."

Joanna ducked her head. Her cheeks suddenly grew warm, though she was sure Perri wouldn't have been able to catch her guilty blush. Her skin was already splotchy and red from exertion. If the girl was in fact the daughter of an admiral or high-ranking Starfleet officer, Jo could sympathize. A good portion of her interview questions from the directors of Starfleet Medical had been aimed at her familial connections. There was a lot of pressure over her head to live up to her last name, even though she'd told them she wasn't going to get by on her father's coattails. She'd assured them, quite vehemently, that she wanted to earn her own way. Joanna planned to make it through her Starfleet education doing everything she could to separate herself from the notoriety. She wondered how long that plan would last, how long she could convince her peers she was just another cadet.

"Yeah," Jo said at last. "Probably."

Once their muscles stung in protest and they were dripping with sweat, Reynolds graciously allowed them a ten minute break. After what possibly couldn't have been ten minutes, he had them back in the quad doing calisthenics. Joanna and Perri 'buddied up,' naturally, through their intense workout regimen, which Reynolds insisted would only get more ridiculous throughout the week. Joanna and Perri helped each other through sit-ups and crunches, and traded groans of annoyance during the lunges and push-ups. Jo's limbs began to feel like the consistency of Jell-O by the time they had to do push-ups. Reynolds caught someone cheating and ordered thirty more.

Joanna amused Perri by muttering a creative expletive every time she pushed herself back up.

Perri faked an expression of shock. "_Joanna_," she exclaimed, "my virgin ears! That's not ladylike behavior. _You are in Starfleet_." She impersonated Reynolds' biting, masculine tone. Luckily, he was out of earshot.

"I swear like a goddamn lady, thank you very much."

Clothes sticking to them uncomfortably and grass stained, Joanna and Perri dragged themselves back to roll call formation as soon as calisthenics had been completed to Reynolds' satisfaction. He studied them all—dirty, harboring a lot of anger toward him which he clearly ate up, and sore in every fiber of their being—then let them loose, barking a reminder to be there at 0530 sharp tomorrow morning.

Joanna managed to walk the distance to the nearest mess hall, though her legs were in jeopardy of giving out on her at any moment. She and Perri ate lunch like they hadn't seen food in their lives, then went their separate ways to their dorms, promising to meet up again for dinner. By the time Jo had showered and changed into her uniform, Rune had returned, looking beat but still wearing a pleasant smile. She explained she'd been placed in another squad comprised of cadets who had advanced physical stamina. Jo told her about their hellish instructor while she slid her PADD into a lightweight messenger bag, which she slung across her chest.

"You didn't find our exercises exhilarating?" Rune asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Not the word I'd use for it."

"I thought it was…what is it Terrans say? …Fun?"

Joanna smirked. "I'm glad one of us had a good time," she said. "I gotta head over to see my advisor. Perri and I are meetin' up for dinner later on, if you wanna come. I'll send you a text."

"Oh. Thank you for the offer, Joanna."

She paused on her way to the door, pivoting on her heel. "Y'know…it's okay if you call me Jo. No need to be formal."

Rune nodded. "See you!"

* * *

Across-campus transport was a heavenly thing, Joanna decided, when she stepped off the small shuttle in front of the Starfleet Medical Center. A group of personnel on shift dispersed around her while she worked the soreness clinging stubbornly to her legs from PT. For the first time, she walked through the doors of the main building as a cadet, not a visiting family member. The lobby was bright and oddly comforting, all white walls and metal and glass like much of the buildings on campus, filled with gray lounges and chairs. Though there was considerable foot traffic—people in scrubs, stark white lab coats, cadets in their reds—Joanna noticed the hushed air, the quietness that carried like a whisper. It was something she'd always picked up on here, even when moving about the crisp hallways.

She crossed the lobby to the Admissions desk, where an Andorian woman sat behind a computer screen. She smiled up at Joanna.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see my advisor, Christine Chapel," Jo said. "I've been here before, but I know they move offices a lot."

The woman slid a laminated card with a clip onto the desk. "You'll need to wear your student ID," she explained. Her eyes lingered on Jo longer than was necessary with a hint of something she couldn't read. She felt like she was under scrutiny. "Nurse Chapel is on the fourth floor of the classroom wing—the administration corridor. You won't be able to miss it."

Jo was about to head for the nearest turbolift, when: "Is your last name McCoy?"

She didn't even have her ID in hand yet, but now she knew what the woman's stare had been for.

"Yes, it is."

"The resemblance between you and your father is remarkable."

She bit her bottom lip, looking sheepish. "I get that a lot."

The turbolift to the fourth floor was the first ride Jo had taken by herself since she'd been on campus, mercifully empty. She realized the recognition, the feeling of her every move being analyzed, would follow her—especially here, of all places. Here, where her father had made a name for himself, garnering a reputation that made him arguably the best Chief Medical Officer in the Federation's fleet. Here, where she would spend most of her class time trying to earn that name in her own right.

Joanna wandered down the stoic administrative corridor, doors branded with names full of prestige; people her father knew and either liked or didn't (and vice versa). She smirked at a few, and nearly stopped to see if Doctor M'Benga was in his office. Her father had told her he'd taken a position as doctor and instructor after their five-year-mission, needing a break from deep space. She figured they would cross paths eventually and continued on to the corner office.

_Christine Chapel, RN_

_Director of Nursing _

After alerting her presence, the door slid open with a hiss. From inside, Jo heard Christine beckon her into the office. The door closed behind her, and Joanna was instantly hit by the strong aroma of fresh flowers and strains of soothing blues guitar. Christine turned her attention from the arrangement of exotic flora in a huge vase behind her desk, a smile working its way onto her lips.

"Jo!"

"Nurse Chapel—"

"None of that 'Nurse Chapel' business," she said. "Not while I'm off-shift."

She pushed a chair out of her way, maneuvering around her desk to wrap Joanna in a tight hug. Jo returned it, professional protocol be damned. She'd known Christine Chapel since she was a kid. Christine held her at arm's length, studying her through a stray lock of strawberry blonde hair.

"Look at you in that uniform," Christine said. "I swear it was just yesterday your father was showing me your baby pictures. And I know I still have some of your old drawings. …Suddenly I feel very, very old."

"You're anything but," Joanna assured, which got her an incredulous look. "It's really good to see you, Christine."

"You, too." Christine gave her another tight embrace before relinquishing her hold. "I've been waiting for this since Len told me you earned your certification as a nurse's assistant and started taking all those advanced placement classes back in high school. I kept pestering him, 'tell me when Jo passes her Starfleet exams!' Then your name shows up on my roster out of the blue. I wanted to hit him."

"I thought for sure he woulda told you first," Joanna said, laughing.

Christine leaned against the edge of her desk. "You'd think." She rolled her eyes. "He came waltzing in here before the crew went up to spacedock, like I didn't already know. Of course, Len's not the bragging type. But he's _so happy _for you, Jo. Once I got him talking he couldn't stop. Not to mention, the whole department's buzzing about having another McCoy in the service."

"…The _whole _department?" Joanna paled.

"What I've gathered from experience is that Starfleet likes multiple generations in the service. I don't mean to scare you. I know it's a lot of pressure. You've got nothing to prove."

"I feel like I do," Jo said. "Even the Academy administrators, they seemed like they were expectin' me to be some kind of prodigy when I interviewed."

"Your grades and scores aren't exactly terrible, Jo."

"Thanks, I s'pose," Jo answered, doing anything to avoid the compliment. She hunkered down in a chair opposite the desk. "It's just…I get it, y'know? I've got the name, they're waitin' for me to make good on it. I dunno if I can, but that's a whole other discussion. Starfleet may like families with status, but I don't think the average cadet appreciates it. It's…haughty, to them. I've got no intention of usin' my connections to get by. And I don't want anyone else thinkin' that of me."

Christine shook her head the slightest bit. "Joanna," she said gently, "if you don't want your peers to know who you have ties to, that's entirely your right. It won't be easy, and around here I'm not sure how long it'll last, but I'll do anything to help you. You know that, right?"

"Of course."

"Len may have a bedside manner a step short of deplorable, but he's nothing if not humble. So are you. Even if everyone figures out who you are, it won't matter. You're not the type to shove it in their faces or use it for ridiculous personal advantage—far from it. I _know_ arrogant cadets when I see them. It's not the way you were raised. You're a lot more than a name. They'll see that if they're the right people."

Joanna sighed. "I needed to hear that."

"Well, good," Christine said. "Now, do you have any concerns about the first semester? Your schedule's busy, but you can do it. Like I said, you had those AP courses, plus a year of undergrad already, so you should be on track to graduate in four years. You really worked yourself to hell getting here."

"Uh, no, I think my schedule's just fine."

"I'm obligated to tell you to think about joining some extracurriculars. Once you're settled into your classes, you should volunteer for shifts at the clinic, put your CNA to use. We're short-staffed and always need the help."

"Yeah, I'll consider it."

"And don't skip out on the first week seminars…I'm sure you're not going to be doing any of that, unless Jim Kirk's influence has become something of a problem."

"Not yet."

Christine narrowed her gaze. "By that look on your face, he's already made an impression. If you've got a rebellious streak, God help me. That combined with your…inherent _McCoyness_ is a combination that'll give me gray hairs."

She lifted an eyebrow. "McCoyness? You have a name for it now?"

"I _hate it_ when the two of you do that."

Jo suppressed her laughter, knowing well that Christine had spent more than enough time with her and her father in the same room. She watched Christine round the corner of her desk again, sliding a drawer open.

"Before you go," she said, "your dad wanted me to give you this. He said it was important."

Joanna stood and picked up the oversized envelope from the desk. She ran her fingers over her father's unmistakable surgeon's scrawl: _Joanna_.

After Christine had made sure Jo was clear to stop by at any time, Joanna ambled back down the corridor toward the turbolift. Since her curiosity was overpowering and the hall was quiet, she leaned against a wall with the envelope in her hands. Tearing open the top, she shook it until two items fell into her palm. The first was a note, written on a piece of real paper, a mode of communication that was hard to come by. Her father was always a bit old fashioned, anyway. She had plenty of practice to decipher his handwriting:

_Jo,_

_Thought you might want this back. It got me through all those times I wanted to give up. You gave me a second chance at something I never thought I'd have the guts for. I can't thank you enough, Jo. I know it was hard for both of us. We've sacrificed too much in this world, and we'll keep sacrificing, because it's just who we are. But we picked ourselves up. We always do. _

_Never thought I'd say this, but Starfleet was the best thing for us. It wasn't my dream, it was yours, and I couldn't see it. You made me see it. …Your uncle, Christine, everyone I've come to think of as family. They are family. We lost ours once but we found it again somewhere else, when I thought it was impossible. The title of CMO is nothing compared to being able to hear you call me 'Dad.' _

_You get your stars, Joanna. Your grandpa would be awfully proud of you. And if you get homesick, for whatever home you're thinking of, just look out your window at night. _

_I love you. _

—_Dad _

Jo tucked the note behind the second item. Although unshed tears were now blurring her vision, she knew exactly what it was. More weathered with years of traveling in pockets on Earth and elsewhere, the holographic starship still flew through space when she titled it back and forth. In four years' time, Joanna would make her inner seven year old extraordinarily happy.


End file.
